Burning Down the House

13 Feb

No, our house didn’t burn down. That’s not why I’ve been absent. I haven’t been trying to rebuild our life from ashes. BUT, Granny K, for the love of fuckin god, just about burnt down the house again yesterday, for the second bloody time. I must have posted about the first time?

Yesterday, quite ironically (but also very sadly) was the whatever year anniversary of the son of the temple next door’s death. The almost deaf temple woman, who is 90-ish, had four children. Her youngest son died many many years ago in a fire in Tokyo. He dropped his cigarette and fell asleep. Every year, on the Sunday closest to the anniversary of his death, they hold a buddhist-type memorial service and invite family and us – the next door neighbors. Hub’s brother grew-up running after said deceased temple son.

I am never invited. Hub always goes and the kids have been invited the last couple of years – ever since they stopped shitting and spewing in public I guess. They can kneel for at least five minutes, pray and then eat a sample of the lunch that is provided. Granny only goes if hub can’t. We have to present them with an envelope of money so really, the less members of the family that go the better!! Yesterday Hub gave them 10,000 yen (100 dollars) from him and another 10,000 yen because the children were going and inevitably would be fed and given a bag of lollies, chips and other shit at the end.

About an hour after the children went over to the temple they arrived back with three extra children – the youngest of which was 4. Neither of their parents showed up to ask if they could play, which of course they could but I was planning on going to the supermarket as soon as Granny K got home from seeing a talk by Higashikokubaru at the local community center. I now felt I had to ‘supervise’ (and occasionally join in). For TWO frickin hours. I mean it does help that I actually enjoy playing spy-chase-slash-hide-and -seek-with-walkie-talkies but still, damn.

Granny K arrives home as people are starting to leave the temple. All the pissed people decide they have to take a photo, which they try and drag me into. I am not in appropriate attire though (black suit) so decline and offer to take the photo. I go along with the ‘one more ワンモア’ calls and rock on with variants of ‘OK, cheese’ in English (read as agreeably play the token gaijin English card they wanted me to play – I know, I know, I deserve more than that medal. I’ve only lived here for half my life. Jeeze. Seriously, it’s like me going into the local Chinese takeaway back home in NZ and saying ‘one chicken flylice prease’ in bestest Chinese accent that doesn’t actually exist)

The mother of the children left to run free in my garden and home turns up and says thank you. I can’t imagine letting my children run free (especially the 4 year old) without an initial いいですか? or おねがいします (Do you mind? Thank you in advance). These particular kids have played in our garden before but never for this long and never without an adult presence for at least five minutes of the two hours ya know! Taking the piss and all that.

After they leave Granny K comes out of her room and says she is going next door to pray. Hub rambles on half pissed (note: most buddhist memorials involve copious amounts of beer and sake – regardless of the hour) about shite and the kids are outside gathering up the last of the snow. I am on the toilet doing a dump (for lack of an eloquent word)

Then an alarm goes off and, like the first time she nearly burnt the house down, I initially think it is the earthquake alarm – until I hear ‘火事です。火事です’ (fire! fire!). So I wipe my ass and waddle off the toilet as I try and pull my jeans up. I open Granny K’s door and smoke just about knocks me over. I navigate my way to the kitchen (it wasn’t actually this dramatic, only about 2m) to see a pot on her stove about to combust in a raging inferno. I use a towel to take it off the element and run the burnt-to-shit-shiitake-mushroom-whatever-soup it had been under the tap. I am yelling out to hub the whole time but he is in alcohol-induced slumber on the couch and obviously takes a while to register that my yelling is not my usual nagging (note to self – must fix one or the other)

He turns off the alarm and we open all her windows…

He than goes to the loo and yells the house down over the person who didn’t flush the damn chain (why do we still even say that when there is no chain!) I say sorry, it was me, I was too busy saving our house from his Unintentional PYROmaniac FUCKin MOTHER – and yes, my voice increased with each word. I then informed him that I still hadn’t even done my trousers up, that’s how imminent the impending fire was. Fark, He’s lucky I don’t give a shit about stuff like that! I mean normally, yes, but not in times of emergency.

About 20 minutes later Granny K arrives home from the temple. I say nothing – just decide to wait and see what she says.

2 minutes later she comes into our lounge and says ‘who opened all my windows? The bloody cat got in’

And I lost my shit.

I said something along the lines of “you are joking right? Why do you think we opened all your windows? Can you not smell the burning smell of shiitake mushrooms and impending house fires?”

Then she clicks and runs back into her room.

I told her that if we hadn’t been there we would no longer have a place to live and I am NOT prepared to deal with this and that if it happens again her stove top is being disconnected and she’ll have to put up with my pizza, pasta and potatoes. I was being dramatic, again. I do actually cook rice and Japanese food A LOT.

On my list of shit to get done this week is laminate a sign for all doors she needs to get through to get out of the house – which is three. We don’t exactly lock her behind ten doors and a safe of dynamite.

And that was yesterday.


Hope you are all well and love to the family and all that.









Post Motorbike Writeoff

13 Dec

Turns out that hub’s motorbike will cost too much to fix and has to be written off – which fuckin sucks cause I paid for most of it for his birthday and insurance wont refund the whole amount because hub was about 20% (we don’t know for sure yet) to blame. Bloody damn it.

The bike stuff all of last week, coupled with a shit few weeks at work with some tax visit from 6 years ago coming back to haunt him – and me really – and he was a stressed ball of cuntiness on Sunday. In short the tax saga is about a man who had to pay x amount of tax but it took him 6 years to pay it and he didn’t realise he had to pay the interest for that 6 years.  He threatened hub – told him he was going to put a flyer out with all their names on it badmouthing them AND to be careful because he might come to our house – at which point I told hub (mid-story) that he had to report that shit to the police. He rang his police brother instead, who in turn told him to tell the local cop. Lord knows if he actually did it or not. We haven’t had a flyer or a visit so perhaps it was all just the guy being a rude mouthy wanker with nothing to back it up.

Roll around Sunday and we are all heading to the city to see aforementioned eldest precious son (policeman) so that Granny K can check in on them and tell her friends she’s caught up with them yaddah yaddah. I don’t think I’ve gone into it much here but the eldest son’s grandson (so I guess my grand nephew although I just think of the three kids as cousins to our three because they aren’t that different in age) is very sick and has, for a lot of his life, been in an anti-bacterial room at the hospital. He is sometimes allowed home and has even been here once, playing and running around in all our germiness.

He is currently doing another round of treatment and his mum was having a rare day off with her husband taking a turn at the hospital. If she gets sick she can’t go into the anti-bacterial room obviously, so she was super worried that we would bring germs from our clean-air rural rice paddie where the kids go to school with 26 other children into their urban home with her other two sons who go to a school of 400. I don’t know why I’m getting my back up about it really. I’m sure if my child’s health (and possibly life) was on the line I’d be super worried too.

We decided to drop Granny K off and take the kids to the movies.

So we did that. Great movie they said. I didn’t go because it was Japanese and I don’t feel the need to waste good money on seeing a Japanese anime.

We picked Granny K back up and went inside and said hello for about half an hour. During which time Shou coughed once and sneezed into his mask, while playing UNO with his two cousins who were wiping snot on their sleeves (ya know, six of one half a dozen of the other) (will also add here that we all had to gargle and spray our hands with disinfectant upon entering the house)

In the car on the way home we get a phone call saying that the mother (of the sick boy) is worried that we might have brought the bloody FLU into the house and could Shou please get tested asap the next morning because if there is any chance she has caught it she can’t swap places with her husband at the hospital.

So anyhoo, now hub is worried about work, his poor motorbike, his poor leg and whether or not our son will give them the FLU which may or may not kill their son. Tis a shithole.

So we decide to buy a thermometer on the way home because despite this being Japan and there being a household average of 3.7 thermometers per square meter I have a feeling I left our ‘good’ one in New Zealand last year. This is important, I can’t rely on the half assed ten dollar one. WE NEED THE GOOD ONE.

So we stop and I get out to rush in and get a few things.

I get back to the car approximately 8 minutes and 43 seconds later and hub is the only one in there. I see Granny K walking around a bit and just presume she was hot with her 8 layers of vests on. Until I open the car and see I have no children.

I enquire, calmly at first. I just think they’ve gone to the loo at the shop – or come in to find me and missed me (hard to do) or something.

And then Granny K informs me that Shou and Marina were playing up, hub had enough, and so he told Shou to get out. Marina and Ryu go after him, hub goes to sleep in the passenger seat and Granny K has no idea which way they went. It turns out that hub told him to walk home but they failed to inform me of this and of the level of hysteria that any of the children might be in.

Turns out I was the only one registering on the hysteria scale.

I tell Granny K off for being a pleb and not looking to see which way they walked. I dump the shopping down and tell hub to drive after me (I had been driving because he wanted to put his accident leg up).

I then walk in the dark in the direction I think my poor three children have been sent. All I can think about is where they are, what if they’ve gone down a side street or worse, been picked up in one full swoop by a van of pedophiles. . . or or….

I mean fuck.

I was also swearing as I walked. Fuckin cunt. If anything has happened to my children the universe will never forgive you.

Seriously, all rationing of calmness goes out the window. You forget that your children are no longer 2, 3, 4 and are actually quite brilliant little human beings.

Hub drives past and I see him about 200m up the road, stop and swing in, wait for a second and then come back to pick me up – kids in car. I get into the car fuming with relief (yes it’s possible). Hub is silent – cause he knows he has been a complete fuckin dickwad. Granny K tries to say that it was nobody’s fault. I say in my fuming with relief steadiness of calm voice “It is everyone’s fault. It is hub’s fault for making Shou get out, it is Shou’s fault for not doing as he was told, it was your fault for not seeing which direction they went in, and it was my fault for fuckin believing I could go into a shop for five bloody minutes without this kind of shit happening”

Not a word the whole way home. Only the semi-silent sound of Granny K weeping into her kerchief.

The only other time I have seen her shed a tear was when we knocked the old homestead down to build this house. I knew I shouldn’t have been cross with her but I was so angry that nobody knew what way they had gone. I went into her room and said sorry when we got home.

On the good side – Marina and Ryu ran after Shou and together they were walking home, wondering how long it would take and if I would be cross with them. At bedtime I told them I would never leave them to walk home 20 KILOMETERS in the dark. And that I was glad they had stayed together and stayed on the main road with the bright lights.

So that was Sunday.

On Monday I took Shou to get tested for the flu. Negative. No surprise there but a relief to my sister ‘n’ law and her daughter – who could then go and relieve her husband of his hospital duties.

Anyhoo, I finally finished about four translation deadlines yesterday, got an “Excellent and natural English translation” for QA result, the kids are fine, Granny K apologized for her cunty sometimes son and asked that I please don’t take the kids back to New Zealand and hub, well, he’s still sleeping in the alter room and doing lots of housework.





Lesson Post – Part 1

3 Dec

This post is more of a lesson to my future self should my future self ever get into a traffic accident – or should YOUR future self get into an accident.  I have been hit before – once I was at a stop light and a dude rear ended me. It was 100% his fault. In Japan there is always a % allocation to each party. You ONLY get 0% if you are completely stopped. The second time I backed into a car full of yankee (mafia) wannabes as I was backing out of my carpark at the conbini. They came hurling in at great speeds driven by an unlicensed punch-purma (tight perm reserved for mafia and their gofas) 17 year old. Needless to say it was mostly their fault yaddah yaddah yaddah.

So today…

Shou has a two-day soccer tournament in a city about an hour away. Hub was meant to be on car pool duty but we switched with the car pool duty parent for tomorrow because one of their distant relatives died and the funeral is tomorrow (in Japan these things happen fast so the said deceased relative would have died yesterday afternoon – as in after my carefully planned car-pool schedule went out)

Hub decides to ride his motorbike to watch the morning game while I teach. I plan to go in the afternoon with Marina and Ryu to catch the final game and the random relay running shit thing they have at the end of the day when everyone just wants to go home.

Hub txts that Shou got a goal in the first game – wahoooo. It is, afterall, a tournament for 5th and 6th graders, not Shou’s 4th grade. I confirm that the goal was a decent goal and not a trickle in and then I do a proud mummy dance, as I take Marina and Ryu into the 100 yen shop to buy coloring-in books AND, as it would turn out, Mummy’s Christmas present – 100 yen earrings, which I pretended I didn’t see. The girl at the checkout was trying not to laugh because Marina wanted me to be there when she bought them but I had to look away while calculating her change.

We get out of the store and back into the car and I notice two missed calls and a txt from hub – the txt says ‘There’s been an accident, call me’. As I have said on numerous occasions, the fact that the Japanese language refuses to incorporate pronouns into their everyday conversation is a fuckin mystery and a complete bloody nuisance. At first I think Shou has had an accident – He’s been kicked in the face with a ball, lost consciousness yaddah yaddah, the mother bear has a wild imagination for such in-apt retardedly fact-filled txts of uselessness.

So I ring hub back.

He answers, in a whisper “I’ve been in an accident”. I am genuinely concerned so I ask “are you OK?”. To which he answers “I think I’ve hurt my leg” … ….

And then he tells me the name of the hospital the ambulance is taking him… tis a fuckin stupidly named hospital so I ask him to send me a txt with the name, if he can.

He doesn’t



  • Fuck, he’s gone into cardiac arrest. He played light on the leg thing. He’s actually dying (enter thoughts of insurance, kids, raising them alone, Granny K… …. – seriously, this shit goes through your mind for a second)
  • Fuck, His leg is so munted they have to give him oxygen and drugs and he’s in no state to be texting
  • Fuck, just fuck
  • OMG, what if he’s being a weak cunt and this is nothing?

OK, so that last thought never entered my mind.

I did a car navi search for the hospital name I thought he said and found it!! Hurrah.

I tell Marina and Ryu the minimal and say we have to drive back in the way we just came to see dad in a hospital cause he fell off his bike.

OK, I lie. I got completely emotional and lost my shit.

We get to the hospital and it is practically vacant due to it being a Saturday. I tell a nurse that I am the wife of the man who was just brought in by the ambulance.

She says something in a low voice to another nurse (and seriously I think it is something like ‘poor woman, her husband is in a bad way’ – when in fact was probably more like ‘do you think she understands Japanese’) and points me in the direction of ‘down the hall’.

So we go down the hall and see hub sitting in a waiting room.

He’s like alive and sitting and shit.

I’m full of relief

But now I have the room to be intrigued and WTF you Fucktard? Why worry me like that. Could you have not said ‘I am fine but I have bit of a sore leg’, instead of ‘(said in dying voice) I think … I’ve … fucked. …. my …. leg….)

Jesus fuckin Christ.

Women who have had a child can sympathize with me here. I don’t complain about shit on the pain scale. I mean, fuck, I’ve pushed a big head out the saloon doors sans pain killers THREE times. Hub gets knocked off his bike and he’s FUCKIN DYING.

So what follows???

Japan is efficient to the point of over-effectiveness

Today, in one single fuckin day, a SATURDAY no less,  I have heard about 27 conversations with insurance agencies, hospitals, bike repair shops, wreckers (who took the bike from the ‘scene’ to the bike repair shop) and of course the police.

After the hospital and the police station we had to go to the ‘scene’ with a scene-specialist policeman. He measured shit and took hub’s statements on where, what yaddah yaddah. The guy that crashed into hub then turned up – with his wife, and a bag of bloody cookies.

Actually I don’t know, I haven’t opened the bag yet. They said they went to the hospital first but hub had already been discharged (I then bet they did a vestling happy dance) so they rang hub and he said he was on route to the ‘scene’

So we all  end up at the scene. The policeman measures measurements and then praises hub on his cute children. The man that hit hubs turns up, with his wife, and they are profusely apologizing to everyone, the policeman, hub, the rice paddies. And then the wife spots me, purposefully standing far away, and comes over with her bag of ‘I’m sorry cookies’…. I don’t want to accept them and in my mind I can here hub saying ‘don’t’ but I do. She’s a very lovely lady and genuinely very sorry for her husband (who is 72) ramming hub’s bike.

I KNOW from previous experience that if you were ‘less’ in the wrong then you shouldn’t say ‘hey, are you OK’ or ‘hey, I’m sorry’. I am on my best Japanese understanding shit behavior. So I just bow a lot and say I shouldn’t accept the gift which she keeps pushing into my hands – so I fuckin say thankyou and she says the kids will like it.

I feel sorry for the wife. Her hub has obviously driven home – told his wife what happened and she has changed into her Sunday best, gone and bought a beautiful box of cookies and rushed to the hospital and then here.The husband is with her but still.

Most of this happened before we even got to the soccer. We got there finally, just before the race started. A  couple of parents saw hub in the car and just presumed he had gone home and then we had come together for a nice hour long drive. Jeeze.

I said nothing, to anyone.

And I love saying shit.

Quite obviously.


We have managed to get hub bathed and in bed without Granny K being none the wise.


Good night folks, has been a loooong day.








30 Nov

Can you believe it’s bloody December tomorrow? Thought I better get in a post before the silliness of the silly season starts to kick in.

I haven’t been vacant due to ongoing fuckwittage in the States. I still think he’s a big oompalumpa but I have a zillion things going on at home that need more focus. Oh and, for what its worth people in the States should take at look at how South Korea protest. That’s a protest. Wow. They even made up a song and had night vendors selling octopus balls.

Just saying.

So, pretty much 17 minutes after I posted that post on my ‘many hats’ I got a huge translation that snowed me down into translation lunacy for a good two weeks. 24 hours before the last part of it was due I got another one that required half the aforementioned lunacy. It was rather taxing but should put us in good stead for the costs of Christmas and New Year and to get the water tank repaired, which will apparently cost upward of a thousand dollars. Huurah.

The town water supply pipes don’t stretch out this far so everyone here has their own well. Not quite Jack and Jill but it does mean we all need a big water tank system thingy in the ground to clean the used water before it gets pumped to where it gets pumped to. The water straight out of the taps is beautiful and pumped up from 80m towards the middle of the earth. Anyhoo, part of the system thingy is broken and we can’t get it fixed till January due to system thingy company working in the Kumamoto earthquake zone. Fingers crossed it doesn’t get worse before then.

Really haven’t got much else to post. So much more exciting posting everyday when the mundane and trivial can get turned into a post.

Hope you all have a good lead up to the silly season.




Blog Failure

9 Nov

The Administrators of this blog inform its readers that due to temporary fuckwittage in the United States of America, this blogsite is down. The owner has the right to temporarily or for full purposes close this site due to said fuckwittage and orange foundation.



That Translation Hat

5 Nov

I failed in my last post to go into detail about my ‘translation hat’. My translation is all freelance. I have contracts with three different places but workload isn’t specified so it can be very ‘feast or famine’ in terms of how much my translation hat nets me in any particular month. Some months I have nada, some months I make twice what my 50 English students bring in. Fortunately the super super crazy, wanna slit my wrists or drown in 80 proof vodka kind of months are few and far between. This is good, because they are a detriment to family life on every level. Children? I have children? Husband? fark no, that is so far down the list. Sex?


I haven’t had a translation for about 3 weeks so my ‘translation hat’ wasn’t really on my radar when I wrote the last post. About half an hour after I posted however I got a translation that will see us not really have to worry about the festive period. No delving into secret funds or otherwise. I’ll even be able to send my sponsor child a Christmas goodie box AND top up the ‘If-everything-goes-to-shit-and-I-have-to-run-away-with-the-kids-to-NZ-fund’

Of course it means I’ll be as busy as fuck for the next two weeks so fingers crossed nobody in the house gets sick!

Wish me luck.



My Many Hats

2 Nov
  • Mother, first and foremost. I grew them in my womb, I pushed them out the saloon doors, I shared my boobs with them, and I am, for the most part, usually always in their corner – unless their corner is full of bullshit and petty lies, whining, arguments over the last ice-block, and or, who has had more seconds on the iPad (which is, as far as the kids know, in the middle of the rice paddies because dad threw it there last night – a whole post on its own. Fucktard. My thousand dollar iPad with last pics of my dying parents and footage of my brother’s wedding is not in the bloody rice paddy, but the whole fuckin huuha about it was too stupid for words and I’m currently too enraged to post about it). The mother has to teach, inspire, worry, share, love, and of course serve up the nicest parts of dinner to the children, then serve hubs and then get some if there is any left over.  I should really put ‘Cook’ as one of my hats considering the amount of time spend in the kitchen. Did you know that two days ago I spent over an hour making mince and potato croquettes that got devoured in less than ten minutes. But then I guess I drink a glass of wine that took a few years to make in less than 20 minutes so shit knows why I’m complaining!!


  • House Keeper – Keeper of the House. You know, the daily shit that keeps life running smoothly for those family members, all of whom have no inkling of what it actually takes to keep the cogs turning. There’s the typically washing, dishes, cleaning, vacuuming yaddah yaddah, but then there’s annual New Years cards, getting ready for the priest’s visits and other cultural things,not to mention the dealing with people who turn up at the house. These can range from the post man, the parcel delivery guy, the water tank checker and cleaner guy – all of whom I know and smile at and who don’t expect to come inside. Then there’s the religious woman who sits in the genkan with Granny K and her magnifying glass as they talk about passages regarding Christ and the Holy Grail, fuck I don’t know. She’s annoying because she is very pushy in her extremely quiet and demur way. Then there are the random relatives who rock up at 9am and ask to pray at the family alter. Granny K is out and I have to show them in, serve them tea and make chatter for half and hour. Found out later they are cousins!! Which makes sense considering I was having a hard time trying to figure out the family tree. And by cousins I mean the husband and wife are cousins to each other. . .


  • English Teacher – this is third on the list because it probably takes up a third of my week. I have 50 students ranging from 3 to 16 that I teach myself at my English office in town, and then I have thirty kids I teach every Thursday at the school in the next town over, and then 20 more at the same school every second Saturday. They are generally all very good kids. Of course I have my favorites and the 3-4 year-old class leaves me exhausted to the point I have to start visualizing that end-of-day wine in order to get through my next class of 10 year olds. My husband thinks my teaching is a ‘hobby’ – ensue hysterical laughter. Dickfuck. There is planning, teaching, organizing, payment schedules, contact with parents, halloween parties, Christmas parties and of course putting on that same genki teacher face whenever I’m out in public and I inevitably meet a student, a mother, a grandmother, a great-grandmother (although there is only one of those I see regularly and she is super annoying because EVERY time she sees me, without fail, she comments on how big I am)


  • Daughter in Law – Lots of people have mothers in laws but not many are ‘fortunate’ enough to live with their aging one with no drivers license. We had A LOT of differences at the start but it is clear that now I am her preferred go to person – over hub that is. Sometimes I get shunted for the prized eldest son but usually its me. We get along a lot better and actually have conversations – which is something hub is incapable of doing with her. He gets all cross and then the next day we both just rant about him in the car on the way to one of her endless hospital visits. If it isn’t her knee, it’s her eyes, or her high blood pressure, or the other knee she got surgery on, or the time she fainted and we had to call the ambulance, or two days ago when she bumped her head getting Japanese rice wine vinegar out of the cupboard and thought she was dying… … All these things that stop me from making a daily schedule – can’t go shopping at the good supermarket cause its 40 minutes away and Granny K will no doubt need picking up from the GP right in the middle of the time I want to be away. So I go to the local supermarket and get so annoyed (in my head) at the aforementioned great grandmother of one of my students getting all suprized (fuckin again) at how big I am that I forget to get the four fillets of salmon hub specifically asked me to get because they are on special…. He finds it extremely hard to forgive anything, or anybody. There is never any “hey babe, don’t worry about it. Can you get them next time they’re on special, thanks”. It is more like “FFS, I asked you to do ONE THING”


  • Soccer Parent Rep – our team is very small. Only 14 kids and 10 families involved. Hub reneged on putting his hand up to be the parent rep from October through to the end of March next year – why? Because he just presumed I’d do it, even though I confirmed with him, on several several occasions, that he, himself, would be doing it. There isn’t that much to do – especially as there are no overnight tournaments to organize in this half. I have to organize all the car pooling for each game (every weekend) which means texting the group and working out how many times people have been, how many kids they can fit in their car yaddah yaddah. Coach gives me any tournament entry towels or packets of washing powder etc etc to hand out to each family. There are two parent meetings to be held, for which I need to make the handouts, decide on a date most people can come, book a room, hold the meeting. And there is the get together to farewell the 6th grade students in March.


  • Volunteer Helper – I help out at the school. I go in on Tuesdays and help with the morning math drills for the first graders and on Thursdays I read to the older kids. I like this and while I definitely wouldn’t whine about it because it is a choice I made, it is still something that adds to the whole day of busyness and trying to make sure I am appropriate in my choice of Japanese and cultural-ness-ness.


  • Volunteer Road Safety Warden – I get to wear a yellow sash and carry a flag that used to beep. Sometimes I push the button and make pretend beeping sounds anyway. I only do this once a month and all households are on the roster. That said, hub has never done it, despite it being over before he needs to go to work.


  • Gaijin – this is really a 24/7 hat. I am and always will be a foreigner in Japan. There will always be daily looks, constant questions, constant interest slash sometimes hatred slash sometimes over zealous people who just see me as a machine of English. Kids that point, parents that say things to them in hushed voices as I pretend not notice, smile and go along with my shopping.


  • Wife – if it has to make the list it can be at the bottom today. He’s seriously being a twat lately – not all the time but sometimes he just leaves me scratching my head and refilling my wine glass. Intercultural marriage is so hard. It is exhausting. It must be for him as well, I know, and I’m sure he has a list of reasons why he is so hard done by but for fucks sake . . . This all said though, my wife ‘hat’ is a full time job when he is home. Constantly making decisions on my Japanese, on how things are done, compromising on how I do things when I am on my own and when he is there.


I am also a translator, dog owner and WARRIOR.

Right, I better finish tidying the house, folding the washing and preparing for English – before going to the supermarket in the next town over because hub pointed out they have half-price frozen foods today…



Sweet Dreams, Good Health and Quiet Living you lot.


Oooooh, but before I go. My other halloween creations…


Mrs D Is Going Without

Too much wine in rural Japan